


the way i'm drinking you down, like i wanna drown, like i wanna end me

by agathav



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula - BBC, Dracula - Netflix
Genre: Agatha and Dracula are in love I don't make the rules, Angst and Romance, F/M, What for Dracula and Agatha could be considered fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:08:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22426090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agathav/pseuds/agathav
Summary: "Take me now.""For my bride?""Only because I shall be your very last."
Relationships: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing, Dracula/Zoe Van Helsing
Comments: 16
Kudos: 152





	the way i'm drinking you down, like i wanna drown, like i wanna end me

**Author's Note:**

> This is just me fixing that ending because it didn't go how I wanted it to...at all. 
> 
> (Also in this, Agatha completely takes over Zoe..because she just should have, okay? I'm not apologizing for it.)

“Agatha, how much longer did you think you could hide from me?”

It startled her. His voice. 

It was a smooth, deep, delicate thing, but the way it seemed to make her every nerve wake was what frightened her. He had been quiet for a time, almost serene. The epitome of a man looking upon the sun after many lifetimes fearing it. 

“It’s been over a hundred years,” She tried him, though the reason for her urge to do so, she didn’t know. “you know it’s Zoe, not Agatha.” But the tremor in her voice betrayed her, the accent, the edge in it reminiscent of a time in which they had lost their lives to each other. She looked at him, at how his body was still tense before the sunlight, before the realization that he could stand before it, feel its warmth. 

“No,” He said so softly, she could’ve imagined it. He was well away, unmoving from the window as she gave into her body’s exhaustion on the chair behind his dining room table. She knew it was still close enough that he could smell her, hear her every heartbeat—close enough, but not quite. And he would tire of the distance, soon. He always did. “It’s not Zoe.”

“But it is.”

“Shall we play—what do they call it these days—twenty questions? You can prove to me you’re Dr. Van Helsing and you can be on your way.”

“It is a very bad habit, you know...” She breathed deep, her chest almost unwilling to rise as it once would. “to play with your food.”

“Agatha.” This time he said it with recognition and arrogance and a sense condescending accomplishment. It was always the chase with them, but a beast fueled by greed and ridden by impatience can only endure it for so long. That was a lesson she would never forget.

_If just one of your pretty little army beckons me in, I will tear your world to pieces._

“It is a very bad habit to tease a starving man.” She closed her eyes, half expecting to open them to him already in front of her. 

“Teasing would imply I’m not a willing meal.” Agatha whispered, wanting to reach for the knife she’d brought, secured at the back of her jeans. She did not. “I always was...when you were not toying with my mind.”

“My dear and so wholly unconventional Agatha...your threats to kill me were never quite this sweet.” And he turned around then. When she least expected him to, just as she was pursing her lips to hide a smirk. His dark, knowing eyes seemed equally amused.

“If you feel threatened, you’re not looking.” Agatha sat up, weary in a body that was and wasn’t hers, taking him in like this. The sunlight behind his form, its rays breaking just for him, and how the way he was dressed all in black made the whole thing feel wrong.

Darkness suited him best. Darkness made him look like what he was.

“I am, but I don’t need to. You’ve only come back to kill me, haven’t you?” The was humor in his words, and disbelief, but accusation, most of all. She chuckled. “I should have known not to think it was because you missed me.” 

“You expected me to miss you? Come on now, Dracula, be reasonable. You killed me.” It was his turn to chuckle and the smile on her face widened against her will. 

“If anything, you killed yourself. _You_ killed _me_.” He threw back, making his way to her, rounding the table slowly, standing a few feet away from where she sat. Agatha could smell him now. It was familiar to her, the earthy, seducing smell of her wildest fantasies. The ones she could only have with his teeth at her throat.

“Oh, please. I only put you to sleep. You needed the rest.”

“Is that your way of saying I look better now?” His arms crossed before him. What from someone else could mean insecurity, from him meant that he was practicing self-control. 

He wanted to touch her. 

“You know what I’m saying.” Agatha smarted, wishing he would do it already. Wishing she didn’t have to say the words. She wanted to enjoy this and she couldn’t, not when the truth of things made it almost tragic. “Come.”

“You come to _me_.” There he was. The beast she knew and hated and begrudgingly had longed for. The growling, the teeth, the blood in his eyes. It had been daunting, once...but it’s a difficult thing to feel afraid of someone you’ve shared life and death with.

“We’ve done this many times, Dracula. You always lose.” She reached behind her for the knife, but he was faster, and then he was stronger and before she knew it, the thing was out of her hands and a monster stood before her. 

“Because you always played dirty.” Dracula panted against her face, for the dramatics, because he had no real use for breath. She found it impossible to keep her heart from leaping and her hands from sweating at the sight of him.

“Using your weakness against you? I would call that intelligent.” Said Agatha, his eyes burning into hers, his mouth so close she felt it against hers when she spoke. He was bent over her chair, both hands grasping the handles, trapping her. Agatha couldn’t look down, but she knew the knife was between one of his hands and the wooden handle. She wanted it back. She remembered how he had licked covered in her blood, once; Agatha had watched him thrust it into his mouth with abandon. It had made her feel invincible. 

“Ah, you remember that as fondly as I do, then.” He whispered, somehow closer. “I always wondered if you would ever accept that the sight of me naked and eating from the palm of your hand had been enough to make a nun wet.”

“Perhaps it was, but only because you were as desperate as you are now.” Her accent was thicker, now and her breath faltered when he smiled wide, showing her his teeth. 

A promise. 

She felt more Zoe than Agatha now, though it was hardly a battle of wills. A longing for death and another entirely different for who could grant it. 

Zoe, Agatha, Zoe, Agatha... 

It was overwhelming and she knew he felt it too.

“Aren’t you going to demand it from me?” He asked, licking his lips, his tongue brushing her lips too, tearing a gasp from her. His answering smile was anything if not obscene.

“You—“ Her voice was hoarse so she swallowed and tried again. “I don’t have to.”

“I suppose you don’t.” He said and it seemed Agatha hadn’t heard him well before his lips covered hers. 

“Dracula,” She gasped against his mouth, deepening the clumsy, perfect, wrong, perfect contact. He growled, kissed her harder, the knife crashing loudly against the floor as his hands reached for her face. “I’m a nun.”

“You were. Once. Not a very good one, either.” Said the beast within him, a hand coming down to grab her throat, his sharpened teeth taking her bottom lip savagely. She cried out, holding onto his arms to stop him. He was losing control, and her own was slipping. 

“Stop.” Agatha attempted, the word coming out as a breathy moan, as he pulled her to her feet, pushed her against the table. He grunted in exasperation at the loss of her bleeding lip when she pulled back, even as their bodies were tightly pressed together.

I wanted him when he was my poison and he wants me when I am his. 

“Stop?” It was barely a word, lost in the animalistic way he snarled at her. “Is this not what you wanted?” But his antics had ceased, his hands digging into the slight curve of her waist impatiently.

“That chair was uncomfortable.” Was her response, backing up and onto the table. He followed like he couldn’t stop himself, a hint of amusement in his horrible eyes. Agatha’s reached for the back of his neck, brought him closer. 

“It’s sweet, now.” He said, resisting against her pull.

“What is?”

“You. I never found another vintage quite like you.” 

“So take more. You’ll be gentle, yes?” It shouldn’t have been a question; he granted no other answer than burying his face in her neck, taking in her smell. A hand tore at her shirt, his nose trailing down her neck, to the curve of her shoulder. 

“After all this time, did you think I’d let it hurt?” He murmured against her skin, pressing an indulgent kiss against her, pulling a sigh from her as she retorted, “It’ll hurt _you_.” 

“I didn’t think you cared.” His chuckle undid her because, damn him to hell, she did.

“Take me, now.” She whispered back, taking his face, making their gazes meet. 

“For my bride?” 

“Only because I shall be your very last.” He kissed her for that. He kissed her because he could and because she wanted him to. 

“If only god could see you now.” He growled against her mouth, pushing her back and climbing onto the table, between her legs. His speed was no more dizzying than the way his tongue thoroughly explored her mouth and dueled with hers. 

“It’s the devil that’s had his sights set on me.” She panted, laying on her back, bringing him down with a hand in his hair, moaning as his mouth traveled greedily down her jaw. A hand was around the base of her throat, another atop one of hers, next to her face. He was cold and hard against her, but she had never felt such warmth.

“My blood brought you back and yours will take us both. It’s hardly just.” Said the Count, his usual feigned smile on his face. Agatha felt something new, something ugly and clawing at her and she knew it was fear. Not hers, but his. 

“You don’t fear death anymore, so what is it? And why can I feel it?” She said almost soothingly, a hand coming to rest on his cheek, watching him lean into it, close his eyes. He was the worst thing she had ever seen. There was nothing quite as beautiful. 

“You’d not believe me if I told you.” Dracula looked down at her in a way that told her things she’d rather not know. “Agatha—“

“No.” She interrupted, not wanting to hear the uncertainty in his voice, the tempting offer he could make, the future he would promise in vain. “Take it.” A demand, like he’d wanted. Her head turned to the side, exposing her neck for him, their joined hands a welcome and rare sight.

“Agatha.” He said again, pressing a kiss where her pulse held steady. “Zoe. Thank you.”

For being his reckoning or his freedom? 

Another kiss pressed to her neck, his tongue trailing a hot, cold path down its length. She couldn’t take it for much longer. Agatha steeled herself, heard herself breathe, “Please.”

She opened her eyes to him above her, holding her, but the world was fire and though they were laid bare and still, very still...

they would not burn. 


End file.
